


That Night

by Hux_CI5



Series: Pastures New [1]
Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hux_CI5/pseuds/Hux_CI5
Summary: Ray Doyle has moved on from CI5.  Or has he?





	That Night

Ray Doyle poured himself a second glass of chilled wine and carried it, and his supper, onto the summer-scented balcony of his flat. Tiny though the space was, there was just room for a table and two chairs, though he'd only need the one chair this evening.

Well, most evenings, in fact. Not that he hadn't made friends at his new job: he had. They were a decent bunch and Marco the head chef was definitely a mate. They regularly walked down to the village pub together for the darts league and a good gossip about Club members. It was just that since he'd retired from CI5 and he wasn't - and his colleagues weren't - in mortal danger on a daily basis, all his work relationships seemed somehow superficial. Just people that he didn't really have to rely on for much. Not like the tight-knit, dysfunctional family that was CI5's A squad.

George Cowley's brusque, "Doyle," had taken him by surprise this afternoon, after nearly a year. "Och don't just stand there gawping, man", he'd said - but then taken the edge off by shaking him by the hand and saying it was good to hear the reports that he wasn't 'letting himself go'.

There had been no opportunity for more conversation, to catch up, find out how the lads were, how Bodie was doing without him. Cowley was still up to his ears in Doyle's former world and was only at the Club today for a discrete meeting with some Whitehall types and their guests.

Though it would have been nice to hear the words, Doyle knew Bodie was OK - or rather, he knew he'd be among the first to know if he wasn't OK.

"Lishen mate," he'd said to Bodie, after enough scotch, at the surprise leaving party he'd helped to organise, in the end, because he thought the lads wouldn't - though in fact Bodie had had it in hand all along.

"Lishen mate, I dint keep you alive all theshe years t'see my efforts waysht - wayshted at thish late date, y'know?"

"Raymond, old son, I've been keeping myself alive in tougher places than this - in.."

"Africa, yeah yeah. Jus be careful, OK. An mate, keepin touchsh. I'mm gonna missh you."

"You, mate, are not going to get rid of me that easily. You, my son, are officially listed as my next-of-kin," - which moved Doyle beyond words. Had Anson not chosen that moment to throw his arms around him and declare, "Doyle - Ray - mate - I love you," before passing out, he might have had a chance to find some words, but as it was the evening became fuzzier from that point on, and the moment slipped from his mind.

Then for a while he was so busy finding his feet in his new life that he didn't have much time to mourn the old. As well as martial arts and small arms instruction at Cowley's country club - a role that came with a flat on-site, thank God - he also collaborated on the design and delivery of training courses for MI5 and 6, and occasionally for members of the diplomatic corps destined for the more challenging postings. It was demanding work, all told, and kept him fit, sharp and occupied.

A couple of times since leaving he'd made it for a drink with the lads in town, seen Bodie, exchanged a few words, but mostly now he understood how it had been for their girlfriends, for all those years: CI5's unpredictable hours, having to leave endless messages, never in when he finally called back. They'd resorted to regular scrawled postcards in the end, and given up trying to actually speak or meet.

Deep in his heart, Doyle was afraid that when they did meet they'd have nothing to say to each other any more. He wasn't sure how he'd cope with that. Ten years they'd been together. He'd never known anyone as well as he'd known Bodie. Knew. Trusted. Missed.

Loved? These days he was thinking about that a lot, and frankly did not know what to do. Should he dismiss these as-yet formless yearnings as only natural given the still-recent upheaval in his life? Or had something happened unnoticed during those ten years? Had he in fact fallen in love with the man he worked with? Or was his subconscious just trying to tell him that, now he could settled _down_ somewhat, it should be with a man?

Where was Kate Ross when you needed her? Things were such that he'd _almost_ do that, almost bare his soul to her if it would help him unravel the mess he was in. There was no-one else he could trust to do it.

He took a sip of wine and gazed unseeing across the untroubled green countryside.

The doorbell rang.

Cowley, dropping by after his meeting? Doyle realised suddenly that he hoped it was, could really do with sharing a malt scotch with the old bastard tonight - nearly spilling his wine in his eagerness to get to the door.

"Hello, Ray. Cowley said you'd probably be home. So this is your humble garret room, is it?"

"What're _you_ doing here?"

"Oh that's nice mate," Bodie kept it light but Doyle saw the tiniest flinch around the eyes and thought _Great way to treat the man I might be in love with!_

"Sorry, sorry - come on in. Don't bump your head on the rafters. You can't blame me for being surprised: it's been so long I thought you were just a pen-pal!"

Their eyes met, and held. "Yeah it's been too long."

"Have you eaten? D'you want a drink? I've got a bottle of wine open. Or there's beer?" _Slow down,_ Ray thought, _Christ I'm babbling!_

"They served rather a nice buffet after the meeting, thank you, but yeah a glass of wine would be good."

"Oh you were at that, were you?" _And gone are the days when I can ask what it was all about, _thought Ray, a little wistfully.

"Yeah. Um - this is a nice place, Ray."

"Yes. Not so shabby. Nice to be staying put for a while, too - rather than moving every few months. Here you are," passing him the wine glass, "So, is this a flying visit, then?"

"No rush. Thought it would be nice to spend some... to catch up - if you want? I mean..." Bodie sounded uncharacteristically awkward.

"I want," Doyle said firmly.

Suddenly he was almost overwhelmed by the urge to tell Bodie - everything. _But why?_ he thought. _We never used to talk about our feelings. I can't lay all that on him. It's not his fault I'm having a mid-life crisis about him!_

Looking up, he found Bodie's eyes on him, steady but - anxious? "Ray what's the matter?"

"What d'you mean?", defensively. Stalling. _Stop it._

"I know you, mate. I know when something's on your mind."

Doyle could not speak.

"OK - well, um, there's something on _my_ mind. It's - a bit difficult to talk about. For me. You and me, well we've never really talked about some things, and now we hardly see each other to talk about anything, and..."

Doyle felt as if he were approaching the edge of a plunging drop into the bowels of the earth, down to the land that time forgot, complete with dinosaurs and everything, every sense alerted against the unknown ahead.

Bodie risked another look up. "Oh hell, Ray - ten years we were partners. You're closer than family to me. I've trusted you with my life. I _miss_ you, mate. I - I'd like it if we could see each other more. What I'd _really _ like - don't lose your rag about this OK, Ray, just hear me out, and if it's not - well, we'll sort it out - I just _have _to find out what you think about - about men. Being together. With other men." Bodie stuttered to a halt. Doyle found that he was enchanted to see just the hint of a _blush _on the man's cheek.

Over this edge, it seemed, there wasn't a nightmare drop after all. Bumpy ground, certainly, but perhaps nothing they couldn't handle. Together.

"Men with other men _romantically_? You with me?"

"Yes," Bodie met his eyes unafraid now. It was finally said, he was glad he'd said it, and he'd deal with the consequences.

_Well there's a thing_, thought Ray Doyle. _Apparently I have fallen in love with the man I worked with!_

"Say something, Ray."

"Are you asking me out?"

"Oh bloody hell, you bastard, YES I'm asking you out!"

"Well that's alright then. I accept BUT I want a bit of commitment from you, mind, not like with..."

The rest of his words were lost in laughter as his partner grabbed him in what was more of a tackle than an embrace.


End file.
